Monday, 26 September 2011

The Joy of Pets

Last Sunday I found myself in the peculiar situation of dog sitting. Going about my working day, a little after ten, I heard the scampering of claws on hard floor. I should tell you now; I'm not really a dog person. I have always had cats and rest soundly in the knowledge they rarely attack small children in parks, run off and lose their way back or savage their owners. This Staffy Bitch then, made me weary.

Cut a long story short, it dug up the back garden, went to the pound, returned from the pound, ate a fist full of treats and, over the next three hours, became lovely and obedient- heeling with a mere whistle. I enjoyed the experience and, rather than see it put down, I was right up for keeping it. Alas, the owner turned out to be some prat down the way who didn't so much as thank me for feeding and returning his beloved pregnant pet. I'd forgotten all about it until yesterday, as customer after customer asked if I still had that lovely dog. I've been too busy to even consider it- which probably says a thing or two.

On with the point then, I guess politicians are a bit like pets. We adopt them for a while, pick up after them and, over time, get a little bit sick of paying for the bleeding things and want something new: Gordon Brown for example- the tired old dog, was never really going to hold the adoration of the public with the idealist bouncing puppies Dave and Nick vying for love.

What has this got to do with poetry I hear you cry. Well, in short, I think this anecdote translates nicely into how I tend to write. I love an idea- tame, feed and nurture it, cuddle it, clean up the mess, deliver to my notebook a whole litter of kittens and get so sick of the concept, metaphorically speaking, it winds up in Fleetwood Docks.

With two Blackpool DGPS meets in quick succession (last Friday and a week this Friday (7/10) @ No.5 Cafe, Cedar Square, Blackpool. 6pm+), I think for the next event I'll drag up a sack of drowned kittens and have a jumble. The writing in so many of my notebooks is as much as dead to me in terms of 'I wouldn't use it now' or 'needs improvement' being the first things I'd probably scrawl over them.

The theme for the next event though is Favourite Poems and so, I'm going to have to pick out some old favourites and have a think why I liked them so much (opinions welcome, as always). With a bit of luck, an oxygen starved little beauty will jump out at me. If not, and I doubt it will in honesty, I'll maybe have something from later today. I'm off to this Diversions library thing (the 2pm one) and interested to see just how it is going to work. See, I’ve rambled on this week- no wonder the bloody ideas fizz out for me!

Thanks for reading,



Ashley R Lister said...

A sack of drowned kittens? I trust you know we have some members who would run with that idea literally.

Great post to start the week.


vicky ellis said...


A metaphorical notebook of dogs comes into its own as the old, tired dogs can be rediscovered years down the line and their old charms jump out at us. We remember what they were like as puppies and see how they have matured and they have even more potential for love and being loved.

I hope you enjoy the workshop. Please let us know how it goes.

Nice angle on the theme :)

Barbara said...

Who would have thought that nice little puppy, Nick would grow up into a rottweiler!